


Boil

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio and Noctis chill after training.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Boil

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

One of the absolute biggest perks to working for the crown is access to the pool—or more specifically, the hot tub, located just a few rooms away from the training room. It feels delicious _good_ to slip into the bubbling water and let it wash across his tense thighs, his taut chest, the sore muscles of his arms. Gladiolus leans against the rim and _moans_ , because this is the life. It’s what makes the grueling training sessions worth it, despite all the trouble of his prince. 

He hears that prince plodding over and looks up just in time to see Noctis shed _everything_ —sweats, t-shirt, boxers. Not that Gladiolus isn’t naked. But he made sure to get under the cover of the bubbles while no one else was around. To make matters worse, Noctis doesn’t stop there. Before Gladiolus has the chance to drop his gaze—which he would do, because he’s on the clock—Noctis _jumps_ into the hot tub. He plops right to the bottom, and the steaming water splashes everywhere, all over Gladiolus’ shoulders and face, ruining his hair. He has to splutter and cough to get it out of his lungs, and as soon as he’s done, he growls, “Noct!”

“Sorry,” Noctis mutters, sounding not even remotely sorry. He’s already lounging against the rim like the undeserving prince he is. Gladiolus tries to finger-comb the water out of his hair and glares, even if Noctis isn’t looking to see it. Gladiolus wipes the last of it off his face and just has to deal with being damp.

He grumbles, “I thought you were out of energy.” That was the whole reason they stopped early. Noctis had seriously looked on the brink of death, tottering back and forth and sweating right through his clothes. Granted, Noctis looks dead all over again, but a dead man couldn’t have made such a big splash. He’s lucky Ignis wasn’t around to witness it. Noctis shrugs his shoulders but does at least straighten up. 

He looks at Gladiolus, which might be worse, because his gaze dips lower than it should. Not that Gladiolus isn’t used to being ogled. But he prefers if people do it outside of the Citadel. Out in the wild, he’ll flex for fun, but he deliberately doesn’t move a single muscle as Noctis’ eyes slowly trace the lines of his massive tattoo. Finally, Noctis’ gaze flickers back up to his face. 

Noctis shifts along the underwater rim of the hot tub, sidling over to Gladiolus, until he’s throwing one leg over Gladiolus’ thighs and hiking up into his lap. Gladiolus’ breath hitches, hands instantly flying to Noctis’ bare hips, clutching on and keeping him from sliding any closer. 

Noctis doesn’t try to. He squirms a little but only leans his upper body forward, face ducking to nuzzle along Gladiolus’ jaw. Gladiolus grunts, confused and vaguely turned on already, which isn’t good at all. Noctis has gotten too _hot_ in his adult years. 

Noctis mumbles, “You haven’t shaved in a few days.” So that’s what he’s doing—rifling through Gladiolus’ growing stubble.

“Iris says the look suits me.”

“How come I can never seem to grow a beard and you’ve got hair _everywhere_?”

Gladiolus snorts. Not exactly everywhere. But Noctis’ fingers lift up to thread through the dark strands sloshed down the back of Gladiolus’ neck, and Gladiolus finally gives him a little shove back. “Hey. You’re too old to sit in my lap anymore.”

Noctis sticks out his tongue and counters, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Brat. Get off.”

“Get off? Right here? Yes, Sir.”

Gladiolus rolls his eyes and physically pushes Noctis off of him—the only sure fire way to get him away. Noctis lets himself tip back into the water and wades across to the other side. As he settles back on the submerged bench, Gladiolus promises, “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you next time, just to make sure you’re too tired to pull this shit.”

Noctis groans, but at least it’s not a _moan_ , which is good, because the grand doors across from the main pool open, two councilors wandering in. It means Gladiolus and Noctis won’t be able to get out for a while, because even if they’re not openly flirting, they’re still stewing naked together. But at least if he has to get stuck somewhere, this is where Gladiolus wants to be. He settles in for a long wait, fully ready to laugh at Noctis when he inevitably becomes a prune.


End file.
